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Authors: Wendi Sotis

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A girlish squeal, which sounded suspiciously like Georgiana, came from the other end of the garden. Darcy and Elizabeth looked in that direction just in time to see Jane and Georgiana turn and continue walking away from them. Both Darcy and Elizabeth laughed, and their eyes met once again.

“I do not think you heard what Georgiana told you when you first arrived, sir,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Bingley is here—in the study, speaking to my father.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows. “Right now?”

Elizabeth nodded. “At this very moment.”

“Do you think Mr. Bennet would be willing to speak to me when Bingley is done?”

“Over the past few days,” Elizabeth answered with a twinkle in her eyes, “my father has given me the distinct impression that he has been expecting you to approach him.”

“Will your father approve, do you think?”

Thinking back over the drawings she had received, Elizabeth smiled slyly. “I am confident that he will.”

~%~

December 17, 1811 ~ Netherfield

A rhythmic tinkling of metal on crystal echoed throughout the ballroom, gently demanding the attention of the neighbours and friends who had gathered there. When the group had quieted, all eyes turned to Mr. Bennet, who stood near the table shared by the two couples who had declared their marriage vows only a few minutes earlier.

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “I am pleased to present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley.” He raised his glass of wine towards the newly wedded pairs. “May your lives be filled with good health, prosperity, and great joy.”

Several
Hear, hear
’s could be heard as everyone in attendance took a sip of their preferred beverage. Servants began to bustle to and fro, serving their meal.

When an acceptable amount of time had passed, the musicians began to play.

“Mrs. Darcy...” Darcy hesitated, too stunned by Elizabeth’s beauty as she smiled at him to continue speaking.

“My new name sounds quite agreeable, especially when
you
say it,” Elizabeth said softly. “Will you do so again, please?”

“Mrs. Darcy...” he whispered.

“What is it you wish of me, my husband?”

Elizabeth’s skin flushed when his answering gaze settled on her lips.

Darcy’s chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. His eyes returned to hers. “May I have the honour of my
wife’s
hand for this dance?”

She nodded, took his hand, and allowed him to assist her from her chair. Jane and Bingley followed. After several others joined the set, the dancing began.

With an impish grin, Elizabeth brushed against him as she passed by. Darcy knew that if he did not distract himself soon, he would pull his bride into his arms and whisk her away to their carriage, urging the driver to make haste for London. He asked, “Is it a local custom to dance at wedding breakfasts?”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “My mother insisted that only a ball could celebrate our double wedding properly, but in the end, Jane and I convinced her to add dancing to the breakfast instead. I must say that she put up quite an argument at first. What convinced her was my reminder that your only requirement had been that we should spend this evening at your house in London—”

He interrupted, “
Our
house in London.”

Elizabeth was paired with Bingley for the next few steps. When her husband reclaimed her, he said, “Speaking of London, how soon until we can be on our way?” Darcy winked.

Elizabeth blushed. “I believe it would be rude to leave before we finish our dance, at the very least.” She tilted her head, “Are you certain you feel comfortable leaving Georgiana at Longbourn without Jane and me there?”

“I am quite certain,” he responded as his gaze flicked once again to her mouth. He hoped the gesture indicated what he could not say in company—that he would like to be alone with her during their journey, and, especially, this evening. They would have several days together before the Gardiners returned to London, escorting Georgiana to Darcy House. The threesome would journey to spend Christmas at Matlock, leaving Georgiana there with her aunt and uncle. The newlyweds would continue on to Pemberley, blessedly alone, for their honey month.

Again, the requirements of the dance parted the couple. When Elizabeth returned to her husband, his expression took her breath away. Suddenly, she was overtaken by the now-familiar dizziness that signified the arrival of a moment depicted in a sketch. She paled and stumbled.

“Elizabeth!” Darcy moved forward to support his wife. “Are you well?”

“Yes, I am well. Would you mind if we stepped outside for some air?”

Darcy escorted her to the terrace, but Elizabeth gestured that she wished to advance further. He led her down the steps, and they strolled through the garden.

Once they moved behind a hedge and were not visible from the ballroom, Elizabeth stopped and declared, “It was
this
dance!”

Darcy furrowed his brow in confusion.

She blushed, realizing that she had not yet shown him that picture. “One of the drawings is of us dancing. Because of what I was wearing, I assumed it was to take place at the ball, but, of course, our planned supper set was prevented by the circumstances.”

“What makes you think that the sketch was of
this
dance, instead?”

“The way you were looking at me just now,” Elizabeth said as her colour deepened, “and the dizziness that accompanied it. I have packed the drawings in the trunks which have already been sent ahead to your—
our
house, but I will show it to you when we arrive in London.” She looked down at her gown and said, “I am willing to wager that the gown in the drawing has already changed to this one.”

Elizabeth stepped closer, and Darcy folded her into his embrace.

“Fitzwilliam, during all that happened, what I feared most was that, with all my meddling with future happenings, any possibility of your falling in love with me had also been prevented.”

“My lovely, brave Elizabeth.” Darcy traced her cheek with his fingers, stopping when, as he brushed his thumb across her lips, she kissed it. Unable to resist her power over him any longer, he cupped her face in both hands and leaned in to press his own lips to hers.

After several tender kisses, he moved away. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he said, “The gypsies predicted that we would marry, Elizabeth... They must have known that, no matter what happened, it would not hinder my love for you. We were meant to be together.”

Elizabeth nodded happily and leaned her face into his hand.

Darcy swallowed. “I can only hope that I shall live up to your expectations.”

The light shining from her eyes conveyed more of her love than words alone could have expressed. “The gypsy blessing promised me love and great happiness. That could only be possible with you.”

             

Just the beginning...

 

 

Epilogue

~ February 1812

Darcy entered his mother’s...
No
, he smiled,
Elizabeth’s
sitting room
. Elizabeth looked up from her writing desk and smiled. He approached and kissed her cheek before saying, “There is a letter for you, my love.”

Elizabeth’s expression betrayed her surprise... and a touch of disappointment. “Have the roads been cleared so soon?” Although she knew it was inevitable, she was not looking forward to the thaw. Passable roads would bring visitors. She had enjoyed being stranded at Pemberley alone with her husband for the past six weeks, too much to wish for anything else just yet.

“No, it will be some time before the roads are in tolerable condition. Mrs. Reynolds found this letter on the table in the entry hall.” He held it up.

“Oh, no!” Elizabeth took the missive and looked at the handwriting. She nodded. “It is from the gypsies.” Elizabeth had been so worried that she would not be able to gain the approval of the housekeeper, whom her husband looked upon almost as a mother, and now this? “I wonder what poor Mrs. Reynolds thinks of me after a letter has appeared as if by magic?”

“Do not worry; she loves you already,” Darcy answered, leaning down to nuzzle her ear with his lips. “As do I.”

Elizabeth enjoyed her husband’s attentions until a noise in the hallway distracted them. She looked again at the letter. “It has been months since I received anything from Simza and Fonso.” She frowned and turned the letter over in her hands. “Not since I received the drawing of our wedding.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps they sent another because there is something lacking in your life with me?”

Elizabeth stood, slid her arms around his waist, and brushed a kiss across his lips. “No, it could not be that. I am utterly and completely happy, just as the blessing promised.”

Darcy distracted her by deepening the kiss for several minutes before asking, “Would you like me to leave you alone so that you can open it?”

“No.” She kissed him again. “Whatever is in here is meant for us both to see.”

She turned in his arms and weighed the letter in her hand before breaking the seal. They looked upon the picture of a young lady sitting in front of Elizabeth’s hope chest, looking at the same picture.

A tear fell, wetting Darcy’s sleeve. He turned his wife to face him. “I do not understand, my love.”

“It is—” Elizabeth’s voice cracked, and she swallowed hard to clear the tightness from her throat. “She is our descendant. Her name is Elizabeth,” She looked up at Darcy with wide eyes. “She will find this drawing...” Elizabeth tilted her head, looking beyond her husband, “along with
all
the sketches I have received, including the necklace, enclosed in a package with a letter...” Her gaze met her husband’s, and she exclaimed, “A letter from
me
! Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth will benefit from the gypsy blessing, as well. Once I seal my hope chest, it will open only for one other... a lady with the same name as mine—Elizabeth Rose Bennet.”

Darcy took the drawing from her and examined it. “This is a likeness of our granddaughter—or great-granddaughter?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Add a few more generations, but yes, she is.”

“May I ask... do you know why she dresses like a boy?” Darcy asked as he handed her the picture.

Elizabeth examined the lady’s apparel—consisting of some sort of slacks that gathered tightly around her ankles and a loose, short-sleeved blouse of a peculiar kind. “I know not.” Elizabeth laughed quietly. “But I am certain her style of dress is much more comfortable than having to wear a corset.” She paused for several moments before continuing, “She is lovely, is she not?”

“Of course she is, my dearest. All of our descendants will be fine-looking—with grandparents such as us, how could they not?”

Elizabeth returned to her writing table and began to prepare a fresh quill.

“What are you doing?”

Elizabeth chuckled as she took out a clean sheet of stationery embossed with the Darcy crest. “I must write a letter to Elizabeth Rose Bennet.”

 

FINIS

 

 

 

Acknowledgements

 

I cannot say THANK YOU often enough to
Gayle Mills
and
Robin Helm
for being wonderful editors, advisors, and friends! They’ve been a great help on
Promises
,
Dreams and Expectations
,
All Hallow’s Eve
,
The Gypsy Blessing,
and now the sequel
Foundation of Love (The Gypsy Blessing 2).

Thank you
Betty Campbell Madden
and
Pat Santarsiero
for cold-reading
The Gypsy Blessing
once it was complete, and offering valuable feedback.

Thanks, also, to everyone at
BeyondAusten.com
, where I posted the first draft. Your comments helped smooth over all the rough spots!

 

 

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The Gypsy Blessing,

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ads

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